Flashbacks
by Divine Contemplation
Summary: I wrote this for an English project as sort of a parody of Robert Mugabe's life. Read it and review?
1. Greypaw's POV

**A/N: I wrote this for an English project, as sort of a parody of Robert Mugabe's life. It's not exact, I know, and it's not the best story I've written, but I felt like putting it on here anyway. x.x Oh, and I changed the BloodClan thing. Same idea, but different... **

GREYPAW'S POINT OF VIEW

"But I didn't _do_ anything!" A loud cry echoed around the camp. For once interested in something other than relaxing in the heat of the sun, I left the apprentices' den, where all the apprentices—warriors in training—slept. The rest of the Clan was already gathered around the Highrock, where Icestar, our Clan leader, made announcements. I looked up, my eyes slits against the sun, expecting to see Icestar's pure white pelt. Our leader was the only cat in ShadowClan—infamous for being dark and secretive—who had more than a spot of white on him. He was half BloodClan.

I shuddered at the memory of the band of loners who had attacked all four Clans in the old forest territory—RiverClan, ThunderClan, WindClan, and us. BloodClan had killed the great leader Tigerstar, taking all of the nine lives granted by our ancestors, StarClan, to each leader with one fatal blow. The pure white cats had claimed to rule the forest, and things kept getting worse until the Clans were forced to leave their homes and travel to the territories by the lake. And so the Great Journey began.

Or at least that's what they told us. Of course, even the elders—the oldest cats in the Clan—didn't remember the Great Journey; they were born long after we arrived here.

As I gazed up at the Highrock, I expected to see Icestar's familiar form. But it was not Icestar standing there. It took me a moment before I recognized Sharpeye, one of the strongest warriors. He was glaring down at Mudbite, another warrior, who stood defiantly by the base of the rock. Fur was standing straight up, claws were unsheathed. The argument looked on the verge of cascading into a fight, one that might involve the whole Clan. I looked around—the rest of the Clan looked just as tense as Sharpeye and Mudbite. I noticed Sandeagle, Mudbite's mate, by the entrance to the nursery, her tail resting on the head of their only kit, Redkit. Sandeagle was glancing around nervously. I began to feel a little uneasy. Something was obviously very wrong.

Just then Icestar padded out from his den below the Highrock. His calming presence began to relax some of the tension in the camp. The two warriors glaring at each other did not move, though Sharpeye's watchful gaze flickered to his leader, then back to Mudbite.

"What is going on?" Icestar demanded, breaking the silence. He leaped easily up onto the Highrock, and yet again I marveled at his strength. Sharpeye stepped back, letting his pelt flatten and his claws slide back into their sheaths.

"I just found out that this _warrior" _–he sneered the word—"is a traitor." The Clan turned their eyes on Mudbite. I blinked, taken aback by the bluntness of the accusation. This was so far off anything I had ever imagined. I had always seen him as a warrior, as loyal to ShadowClan as any other cat. Apparently, most of the Clan saw him that way too.

Icestar frowned. "What makes you think that?" he asked Sharpeye. That was just like the leader, to take his time and avoid impulse decisions.

"Well…" Sharpeye looked down at his paws. Obviously he hadn't prepared for this public accusation. Then he glanced up, and his eyes met Icestar's. "I caught him eating on a hunting patrol, before the Clan had been fed. And at the border skirmish with RiverClan, he was fighting his own Clanmate." He glanced at another warrior, his best friend. "Lionfur," he demanded, "were you not fighting against a RiverClan warrior as well as this traitor here?" He flicked his tail at Mudbite.

"I was," Lionfur mewed gravely. "I had been fighting with a RiverClan warrior, and I was about to send him running like a kit, when I was thrown off him by another cat. I recognized Mudbite's scent."

Icestar glanced at Mudbite. "Is what they say true?" he asked.

"No!" Mudbite replied instantly. "I never ate while hunting for the Clan, that's against the Warrior code! I won't break the word of the one thing that binds the Clans together. And in the battle, Lionfur was losing, and I threw the RiverClan warrior off of him."

He was about to say more when Sharpeye interrupted him. "Of course, that's what you say," he mewed. "A liar is worse than a traitor. And you have proven yourself to be both!" Mudbite hissed and unsheathed his claws, but before he could do anything, Icestar planted himself firmly between the two warriors.

"Stop," he growled, glaring. "I have reason to believe that what Lionfur and Sharpeye say is true. And your actions now are only helping that." He flicked his tail, stopping Mudbite's protest. "I would like to remember you as a loyal warrior, but I can see that is not the case anymore. You are banished from ShadowClan. Leave now, and if any Clan cat sees you on our territory, they will treat you the same way they would treat any other loner or rogue. That is what you are now."

Icestar stood, glaring, while the fire died down in Mudbite's eyes and his pelt flattened in defeat. The warrior turned and stalked out of the camp, pausing to lick his mate's ear and say goodbye to his kit. Then he was gone.

None of us thought we would ever see him again. We never would have dreamt that one day, he would lead us as Tigerstar once led the great ShadowClan of the old forest. We never would have guessed that he would be remembered in nursery tales for generations after his death, all but worshipped in ShadowClan, and feared more than any BloodClan cat ever was.


	2. Mudbite's POV

MUDBITE'S POINT OF VIEW

I grew up close to my mother, and Sandeagle, who eventually became my mate. My mother was already dead, and when I was exiled, it was horrible to be separated from my mate. But I held on to a thin thread of hope that I would somehow be with her again someday. In the meantime, I had Thornfang to keep me company. He always found a way to bring me prey and spend a little time with me every day.

I spent a few moons in exile. I lost track of time. For the first moon or so, I was switching between self-pity and anger. I felt sorry for myself for losing my family, my friends, my whole Clan—everything I had ever known. And I was mad at Sharpeye for accusing me of something I hadn't even dreamed of doing. I promised StarClan I would get revenge. I told my mother, who I liked to think was up there watching me alongside all her dead Clanmates, that her son wouldn't be put to shame. And a few moons later, I got my wish.

I was hunting at the edge of ShadowClan territory—I didn't like to stray far from home, and I wouldn't think of going into an enemy Clan's territory; I still respected the warrior code. I had almost caught a mouse when I scented a patrol. I recognized the scents of Thornfang and Sharpeye, as well as the deputy Darkwhisker. A plan formulated in my mind, and once it was there, trying to keep me from carrying it out was trying to prevent the inevitable. I let myself be seen, and naturally they attacked. Thornfang had always seen my good side, and he thought I was exiled unfairly, so he was ready to fight with me instead of against me. So it was two on two—Thornfang and I fighting Sharpeye and Darkwhisker. We were fighting near a gorge, so I put Darkwhisker on the steep side and pushed… He went tumbling to his death; then all I had to do was make it look like Sharpeye had killed him. I gave him a few scratches to remember me by, and then swore Thornfang to secrecy, telling him, "It was what they deserved." We brought Sharpeye back to camp, where it was only a matter of time before I had the Clan convinced that the warrior was the traitor, not I. I was allowed back into the Clan. At Moonhigh that night, the time when Icestar would name the deputy, the white leader emerged from his den and leaped onto the Highrock, calling for the Clan to assemble. He said nothing except the required for the naming ceremony: "I say these words before StarClan, so that our warrior ancestors and the spirit of Darkwhisker may hear and approve my choice. Mudbite will be ShadowClan's new deputy." The Clan was shocked, and I must admit I was too, but then I remembered what life had been like before the incident with Sharpeye. The Clan had trusted me as one of the best warriors, strong and brave and loyal. They could learn to trust me again.

A few days later, Sharpeye was injured in a border skirmish with WindClan and died before the next Gathering. Not many were sad to see him gone. Except for Crowshadow and Lionfur, his two followers and my worst enemies in the Clan, none of us trusted him anymore. By then, Icestar was on his 8th life—he had lost one or two in the time I was exiled—so he only had two left to lose. So maybe as deputy I was a bit more aggressive than I could have been, and maybe I was encouraging him to fight a little more than was necessary, but he would have lost them both soon anyway. When he finally did, none of the Clan suspected me—which was exactly how I wanted it. We mourned for him, and then, as the elders set off to bury their beloved leader, I set off to the Moonpool to receive my line lives and new name. I became Mudstar, leader of ShadowClan.


	3. Rainwhisper's POV

RAINWHISPER'S POINT OF VIEW

The day after Mudstar returned with his nine lives and leaders' name, his kit was buried next to Icestar. Redkit had caught greencough, a disease usually not usually fatal. It's nowhere near as deadly as whitecough, but it did not hesitate to kill him. Nothing in my power as a medicine cat could save the poor kit. May he rest peacefully in StarClan.

Another strange thing immediately followed Mudstar's ceremony, but this was his own doing. He leaped onto the Highrock and called for the Clan to assemble. Sandeagle was still grieving for her lost kit, but apparently Mudstar had moved on. He spoke the sacred words for naming his deputy. I admit I had no idea who he would choose—StarClan had not shown me anything, and he had not spoken to me about it. In fact, he hadn't spoken to me at all. I was kind of worried—it was very unusual for a new leader to all but ignore his medicine cat. So I was completely surprised when he named a cat that we all knew had never trusted him, and all but hated him. Crowshadow, Icestar's son, was the new deputy.

This surprised the whole Clan, but Crowshadow seemed to have expected it. Maybe Mudstar had talked to him about it earlier. But if he had spoken with any cat, why wouldn't it have been me? As a medicine cat, it is my duty to assist the leader in any way possible, especially if StarClan sees fit. I hadn't had any sign from our warrior ancestors, but I had to believe that Mudstar was rightfully chosen to lead ShadowClan. Without that trust, I could not fulfill my duty to my leader and to my Clan.

Less than a moon later, Lionfur was leading a hunting patrol with Sandeagle and his apprentice, Darkpaw. Lionfur and Darkpaw returned to camp dragging a limp Sandeagle between them. I was just returning from checking on Oakfire—the elder had recently picked up a mild cold that I wanted to keep an eye on—and emerged out of the elders' den, into the bright sunlight. I blinked when I saw Sandeagle lying down in the middle of the camp. Her eyes were closed, her face frozen in a distorted expression of pain and anger. Bloody cuts slashed through her body; her ginger fur was stained a deep red. The wounds were long and deep, stretching from her shoulder to the middle of her back. They were wounds no cat could survive. Sandeagle was dead.

I made my way through my already grieving Clanmates towards the bloody warrior. I had almost reached her when Mudstar came running from the direction of his den. He shouldered past me, pushing towards his lost mate. He let out a wail heavy with grief and rage. Almost involuntarily, the Clan flinched and took a step back. Sighing, I returned to my den and brought some cobwebs back to the clearing—they worked well for cleaning bloody wounds. Mudstar ignored my offering until, turning on me, he mewed, "No! No cat shall touch her. To clean her fatal wounds would be to destroy her effort and her honor. No cat shall touch her!" he repeated desperately, and then turned to glare at Lionfur, who had been leading the patrol. "How did this happen?" he demanded.

"We decided to split up," Lionfur began nervously. "We thought we would catch more prey that way—"

"Well, of course you'll catch more prey!" Mudstar growled, cutting him off. "There's no need to treat me like a mouse-brained apprentice! If anything, I should be teaching _you_ about hunting tactics!" He paused, glaring, before collecting himself and continuing in a much calmer voice, "Now, how did this happen?"

"She was attacked by a badger," Lionfur mewed quickly, looking down at his paws.

"A badger? There is a badger in our territory?" Mudstar kept his voice even and his face carefully expressionless.

"Well, not anymore," Lionfur mewed.

"We chased it off into ThunderClan territory," Darkpaw added somewhat smugly.

"Well, that's good to hear." Mudstar's tone was bitterly sarcastic. "We wouldn't want this big, scary, cat-eating badger roaming our forest and attacking innocent, helpless warriors."

Darkpaw seemed to shrink back under Mudstar's fierce gaze. "No…" he mewed weakly. Mudstar hissed and turned away. He retreated to his den, calling over his shoulder, "She is to be buried at dawn tomorrow. No cat is to touch her before then. And from now on, all cats outside the camp must be with a warrior." With that, he disappeared.

I returned the cobwebs to my den half-heartedly. I didn't agree with Mudstar, but I wouldn't dare disobey him. I lay down in my nest, troubled for some reason I couldn't identify.

It wasn't until later that I made a connection. Coincidental, maybe, but then, maybe not. First Mudstar's kit. Then his mate. Was StarClan punishing our leader for something? Should he even _be_ our leader?

This story needs a happy ending, but I see none in sight.


	4. Silentpaw's POV

SILENTPAW'S POINT OF VIEW

The Gathering after Sandeagle's death was an interesting one. It was only my third Gathering, so I was excited to be going. Greystone's warrior ceremony had been a few days before, and she was looking forward to being recognized as a warrior. We were all jealous—Darkpaw, Nightpaw, and I. I thought Darkpaw was ready for his warrior ceremony, but apparently Mudstar didn't agree.

We crossed the fallen tree that led onto the island where the Gathering took place. It was the only time we could see our friends from other Clans without having to be ready to fight them. There was always so much gossip, and animated arguments often broke out despite the truce. When we got to the Island, everyone was talking at once. I found my friend Silverpaw, from ThunderClan, and she told me that everyone was upset at Icestar's death. This was the first Gathering after the fall of our great leader, I realized. So much had happened in just one moon.

Silverpaw confessed to me that she didn't trust Mudstar or respect him as much as the other leaders. I was surprised. ShadowClan accepted him as our rightful leader, and we thought he had been doing a pretty good job, considering the deaths of his kit and his mate. But Silverpaw said that she had overheard her mentor and the Clan deputy talking about my leader. They had said he was cruel and power-hungry and didn't care about his Clan. I was indignant. How dare they talk about my leader that way? We thought he cared very much about us, and he would do anything to help ShadowClan. Obviously, the rest of the cats at the Gathering disagreed.

The Gathering was short, starting promptly and going only long enough for each leader to make their announcements. The ThunderClan leader announced that three kits had been born. RiverClan had a new warrior, and WindClan had two new apprentices. When Mudstar stepped up to take his turn, the cats fell dead silent.

Mudstar announced Icestar's death, though almost every cat already knew about it, and he informed the Clans of Redkit's and Sandeagle's deaths. He also reported Greystone's warrior ceremony, and pointed her out in the crowd of tense cats. Then it was over. The leaders leaped down from the tree where they made their announcements, and they gathered their Clans around them. I waved a good-bye to Silverpaw and joined the rest of ShadowClan. Then we returned to our territory. There was no mingling before the leaders began their announcements; there was no visiting with cats from enemy Clans. I missed that—it had been the best part of the Gathering, meeting other apprentices, even collecting some battle tips—but if this was the way Mudstar wanted to do it, I would skip all the unnecessary idle chat. I trusted my leader; the whole Clan did. And we didn't care what the other Clans thought; he was our rightful leader and he would remain so until each of his nine lives were ended. And he is still our leader, on his 7th life. And ShadowClan still follow him as faithfully as ever.


End file.
